


The Valentine's Date

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dancing, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mixtape, Roses, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Slow Dancing, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 04:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Cas sets up the perfect date to tell Dean how he feels on Valentine's Day





	The Valentine's Date

Sam is staring at Cas, open mouthed, trying and failing to contain the  _ slight _ shock and complete thrill that Castiel had just told him that he, the angel of the lord, was in love with his brother, human and hunter heroici. He had said it flat out, sitting across from Sam at the small kitchen table in the bunker. Dean was in the shower, safely out of earshot. 

“What?” Sam finally says, making sure he heard Cas right. 

“I am in love with Dean,” Cas says again. “Of the Winchester variety. As in your brother. What are you not understanding?” 

“I’m understanding. I just didn’t know angels could… you know…  _ love _ ,” Sam grins. “Why are you telling me, though? Why don’t you just tell him?”

“I can’t tell him. I need it to be something he can’t misunderstand. I need to tell him in a way that he can’t pretend it isn’t real. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way.” Cas’ hands are pressed into the table top, his fingertips white with the pressure. 

“He loves you,” Sam says gently, watching the angel’s anxiety. “He’s just an idiot.” 

“What do I do, then?” 

“Valentine’s Day is his favorite holiday. Holiday of love. Take him somewhere nice or keep him here and make him a nice dinner. Take him on the best date you possibly can and tell him how you feel,” Sam suggests. “He’s never really been taken care of.”

“He deserves to be taken care of,” Cas says softly. Sam’s heart melts, watching the angel’s unguarded demeanor. 

“Figure out what you want to do. I’ll help you in any way I can, and I’ll make sure I’m not around,” Sam promises and Cas nods.

 

* * * * *

 

Thursday, February fourteenth, Dean walks into the bunker from the garage, putting the keys to his beloved Impala back into his pocket. He stops when he hears music playing. It sounds like Led Zeppelin. 

Instead of rose petals on the floor, there are full, long stemmed red roses leading further into the bunker from the garage. Dean picks up the first one and checks it, suspicious. Was he intruding on something? Was this for him? From who? 

He takes a few carefully silent steps and picks up the second rose. He is walking along the wall, following the flowers and collecting them as he walks toward the library. 

The light in the doorway is flickering as if lit by candles instead of the few table lamps they had. The music is louder and is definitely Led Zeppelin. He thinks it might be the mixtape he’d given to Cas. Was Cas on a date using his mixtape? His stomach flips and he thinks of running back to his car and driving far from this bunker and this night. 

He swallows and is vaguely aware of the fact that his hands are clenching the flowers too tightly. He sighs through his nose, steeling himself. He steps through the doorway. 

The library has been transformed. He had been right. The table lamps are gone, replaced by hundreds of candles. The table in front of him only has two chairs pulled up. There’s a white tablecloth thrown over the table and a water-filled vase in the center of it. There are place settings for two. Fine china and silver utensils with napkins folded into roses in the center of their plates. 

Folded in front of one plate is a paper with one word: Dean. 

He puts the dozen roses into the vase with shaking hands and takes a slow step away from the table. He walks back to his room, feeling embarrassed and confused. He opens his door and closes it, leaning against it for support. 

He realizes his heart is slamming in his chest and he’s breathing rather quickly. He swallows and slows his breathing. His green eyes open after a moment and land on a suit that is laid out on his bed with another single card. 

“Wear this and go back to the library.” It was written as if Cas had known that Dean would retreat to his room immediately.

Dean opens his door again and peaks out, but doesn’t see or hear anything besides the soft Zeppelin. He closes it again and thinks about locking himself in. He had to be dreaming. He pinches himself and scowls when he doesn’t wake up. 

“Fine, I’ll wear the damn suit.” He picks it up and stares at it before actually changing. He wants to know what the fuck is going on. 

He pauses by the mirror before leaving and tries to fix his hair. “What if it’s Cas?” Dean whispers to his reflection. He shakes his head, telling himself that his heart is wrong. It would never be Cas. 

He makes his way back to the library and stops dead, his heart jamming itself in his throat. Cas stands at the table in a matching black suit. His hair is still a mess, just the way that makes Dean’s stomach fill with butterflies. His blue eyes are soft and open, willing to let Dean in. The light is reflected in them and Dean chokes. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” Cas says. He moves around the table and pulls Dean’s chair out for him. Dean can feel the blush in his cheeks and he can barely move his feet. 

“What is this, Cas?” Dean replies, his voice cracking embarrassingly. 

“This is someone who cares deeply for you, taking care of you.” Cas sits down opposite Dean. This is the first moment he realizes that the plates that had been empty before are now filled with food and the napkin roses have been moved to the side. He unfolds his rose and spreads it over his lap, his eyes on his hands as he smooths the fabric. 

“Did you make all of this?” Dean asks, picking up the burger that seems rather out of place for a candlelit dinner. 

“Yes. I’ve been practicing for months,” Cas confesses, picking up his own burger and taking a bite. 

Dean almost chokes. “How long have you been planning this?” Cas only smiles and shakes his head. 

The burger is the best tasting Dean’s had in years. The flavors aren’t overwhelming and delight his taste buds. Suddenly, the meal choice doesn’t seem so out of place. 

“The mixtape?” Dean says after a few more bites. It’s Cas’ turn to blush. Dean didn’t know Cas had the ability to blush. “This is all wonderful.”

“You deserve it.”

“Dance with me?” Dean regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He closes his eyes against the impending rejection and recoils internally. He was just being shown appreciation. This wasn’t a date. 

Cas takes Dean’s hand and stands up. Dean’s eyes open in shock as he’s led just a few steps away. 

“I admit, I didn’t learn how to dance,” Cas says sheepishly. His eyes are locked with Dean’s. 

“Nothing fancy,” Dean promises, his voice barely over a whisper. He can’t force his heart or voice back to normal as he stands this close to Cas. Dean pulls Cas gently toward him, their hands clasped together. With his free hand, he put Cas’ remaining hand onto his shoulder. He hesitates before putting his hand onto the angel’s waist. His breath caught and his eyes snapped up from Cas’ waist to his eyes. 

“Future reference, never dance to rock music like this again,” Dean breathes. Cas nods and they begin to dance very slowly, more there to press together and stare into each other’s gleaming eyes than to actually dance. The steps they dance are repeated so slowly, it doesn’t resemble the waltz at all. They spin slowly, their feet moving beside the others in a way that looked as though it had been practiced for years.

Dean’s head bends so their faces are right beside each other’s. Their breath mingles between them. Their cheeks brush, lighting fireworks in both of them. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes. His thumb runs over Cas’ gently. 

“Dean,” Cas answers just as softly. “I have to tell you something.” 

 

“What are we doing?” Jack asks Sam. 

“We’re giving Cas the chance to tell Dean how he feels,” Sam smiles. Jack pales and whips around, stopping Sam in his tracks. 

“What?” 

“Cas wanted to tell Dean how he felt on Valentine’s Day,” Sam says, his smile fading as he sees the anxiety in Jack’s eyes. 

“No!” Jack yells. “Take me to the car!” 

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Jack yells, and suddenly he’s gone. 

 

“You love me?” Dean asks. Their feet have stopped moving and their arms have fallen from their dancing position. Their hands are twined together between them. 

“No, I’ve said that before.” Cas furrows his brow and looks at their hands. “I am in love with you.” Dean doesn’t answer, his chest swelling with pure happiness, elation, joy. 

“I need you to hear it,” Cas says, his hands tight on Dean’s. “I need you to know it even if-”

“I love you, too,” Dean says so fast the words all seem to run together. “I love you, Cas.”

“No!” Jack yells, crashing into the library. Dean and Cas’ hands fall from each other’s, both of their faces turning the color of the roses on the table. 

“Jack, what are you-”

“Cas sold himself to the Empty!” Jack yells over Cas. Dean’s heart crashes and breaks. Cas looks from Jack to Dean, his eyes pleading and desperate. “If he finds true happiness, he will die.”

Dean’s eyes, which had been unguarded throughout dinner and their dance, are suddenly dark. His blush is gone, replaced with the grim pale skin of someone who’s recently died. He takes a step away. 

Without thinking, Cas reaches for his hunter and Dean immediately winces, flinching to keep out of the grasp of his angel. 

“Dean,” Cas pleads. His arm is still reaching, his fingers extended as if Dean might come back to him.

Dean’s eyes are stuck on Cas, begging for none of it to be true. He swallows hard and clenches his jaw. He feels like he might puke. 

Cas’s heart shatters in his chest, his eyes still locked with Dean’s. He can feel himself shaking. He can still feel the kiss that had been about to happen. He can feel Dean’s cheek on his as they danced. The music is over, but the tape is still his.  _ It’s a gift. You keep those. _

“Dean, please,” Cas’ voice breaks and Dean shakes his head sadly. His tears finally spill over and he turns and walks away. Away from Cas and the candlelit dinner. Away from their dance and their whispers. Away. 

Cas falls to his knees, his chest physically aching as Dean retreats.  

 

It’s the next morning and Dean is alone in the kitchen of the bunker. There are no remnants from last night’s dinner. If there were, Dean would have gone back to his room, coffee or no coffee. 

“Morning,” Sam says with an easy smile, oblivious to the pain that has taken over Dean’s chest and spread through him like a monster. 

“Mmm,” Dean answers, sipping his coffee, letting it scald his throat. 

“How was last night?” 

A brick lands in Dean’s stomach. 

“Nothing happened,” he answers. His legs move. His chest hurts. He needs to get out of this freezing kitchen. Why is it so cold? He’s walking toward the door. 

“But...wait,” Sam turns around and Dean stops walking. “But, he loves you.”

“He loves everyone,” Dean snaps. His words are bitter and he knows they aren’t true anymore. He knows, but he has to lie to himself. He has to lie to everyone. 

“You love him,” Sam is grasping because he knows, but Dean shakes his head a little. 

“He loves everyone and maybe I don’t love anyone. Not anymore,” he lies to his brother and to himself. Dean scratches his head and leaves before Sam can figure out another question to stab Dean with. 

 

“Are you mad?” Jack is standing behind Cas who hasn’t spoken since the previous night was ruined. 

“No, he has a right to know.” Cas’ voice is soft and Jack almost wishes he would yell. “I had a right to die.”


End file.
